


Sweet Temptation

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, M/M, Omnics, Teasing, valve play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta* Genji has been daydreaming about Zenyatta using his transcendent arms in bed for a while, and finally finds the courage to ask for a personal show.Zenyatta agrees... for a small price.





	Sweet Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy

**Sweet Touch**

Genji crouches above Zenyatta and looks down at him.

His expression is soft yet intent, eyes moving down from his forehead array which flickers softly in the lowered lights of the room to the slits behind which Zenyatta’s optical receptors are, and lower still to the seam of his mouth piece.

He trails one thumb down the side of his face, gently, feels the smooth metal surface, and Zenyatta reaches out to cup his chin in answer; his hand is one degree lower than human body temperature, so against the heated skin of his face it feels pleasantly cool.

“There is something in your mind, Genji.” Zenyatta’s tone is gentle, humming, coaxing Genji to answer. “I can feel it.”

“I want to watch you,” he breathes out, and his voice is low and almost raspy.

He’s breathless already. He has spent countless minutes simply kissing Zenyatta, mapping his body with his fingers with leisure, no rush nor hurry to it, and Zenyatta has answered in kind, both lost in each other, in their shared intimacy after two weeks of missions away from one another.

Perhaps it is why Genji is already lightheaded, why his heart thunders inside his chest, and why his skin feels tight where it’s connected with the parts of his body that aren’t organic.

He has missed Zenyatta, his voice, his support, his presence –and he has missed kissing him, touching him, holding him. Being back in his arms… yes, Genji feels he’s allowed to be this heady already.

Even more than that, he had no intentions to ask this to Zenyatta, before. He debated with himself about it –has had enough time to go through a complete list of emotions, from embarrassment to shame at where his thoughts run off to when he’s not paying attention, but the idea is still powerful on the front of his mind, appealing in ways that he cannot describe, and fuels him on enough that now, in the privacy of their shared bedroom, he _has_ to ask.

“Are you not already, my dear?” there is laughter in Zenyatta’s tone, his synth as low as Genji’s voice is, soft and wonderful and full of tenderness.

“Cheeky,” he murmurs back, thumb rubbing insistently at the seam of Zenyatta’s mouth. “No, I mean…” he falters, swallows, leans in so he does not have to see Zenyatta look at him when he asks this, and presses his lips against the left curve of his face plate, directly over his auricular receptors. “I wish to watch you prepare yourself for me.”

“… oh.” There is the lightest catch to Zenyatta’s voice, and this close, Genji can hear the way his fans hitch and spin just a little faster. “If that is your wish, I should do my best to satisfy it.”

Genji’s throat closes up, a wave of heat filling him at Zenyatta’s casual acquiescence, and feels even more daring, cheeks burning, when he licks down a path on Zenyatta’s neck to add, breathy and raw, his desire so clear in his voice that it turns out thick with it, “With your… your transcendent arms.”

That does give Zenyatta pause, and for a moment, Genji feels like he’s overstepped, but he’s burning and feels unrepentant in his desire, and he just wishes to know if it’d be possible. He’s dreamed of that for months now, ever since he’s seen Zenyatta give himself a fist bump after a successful tricky attack on a hidden sniper during one of their escort missions, the casual way those hands can interact with him, with the normal world, how they become tangible, surrounding Zenyatta like a halo.

He had enough time to come to terms with his desire, especially after their two weeks of separation.

At first, he used to dream of how those golden arms would feel against his own skin, warmth and full of otherworldly love surrounding him in an embrace, but then… his thoughts shifted to something different, and now he cannot help but _think_ about it.

He wishes to see it, and he knows he can ask anything to Zenyatta –at most he’ll say no, but he’d never hold it against him.

Then, underneath him, Zenyatta starts to chuckle, his shoulders shaking in mirth, and Genji relaxes, though he can still hear his fans spinning faster, so maybe… just maybe…

“Is _that_ what you want, Genji?” he sounds amused, and it’s a beautiful tilt of his voice that Genji adores, but then his voice turns lower, vibrating right through Genji’s chest. “For my transcendent hands to help spread me open for you, as you watch on?”

He gives a full-body shudder, unable to restrain a small, soft gasp at the mental image this gives him.

“Yes,” he breathes out, desperate, wanton, and pushes his body down to cover Zenyatta’s, grinding down against him. “Is it… can I…”

“Yes, my dear,” Zenyatta’s voice is still light, amused, but there is something else there, a mix of fondness and promise, and it threatens to bring Genji apart. “Such simple desires you have, but… they are also easily granted… yet you must offer me a wish as well, would that be fair?”

“A-anything,” Genji presses his lips against the seam of Zenyatta’s mouth in thanks, grateful and excited at the chance to make his dream come true, and when Zenyatta’s hand comes to caress his cheek again, cool and gentle, he nuzzles into it.

“I want you to promise me, Genji, not to touch me, or _yourself_ , until I tell you to.”

The words make Genji feel like fire has been lit inside his chest, and he groans, open mouthed, against the metal of Zenyatta’s face.

It is not often they get to play like this, and it is unfair how he’s already wound up and ready to go, how easily Zenyatta can rile him up just by virtue of being him. He wonders, for a second, if he can make that promise, but he’s never been good at denying Zenyatta anything, if he can.

“Yes,” he murmurs, reverent, and moves away reluctantly from him, missing the heat of Zenyatta’s body against his own right away.

“My dear, do you think you can hold out? You seem…” Zenyatta shuffles back on one elbow, and brushes one hand down his own chest, fingers caressing the contours of the golden slot that covers his core before moving lower, to the exposed circuits on his stomach area. He looks inviting, and Genji’s eyes, enraptured, follow the hand’s descent. “… close, already.”

Genji knows Zenyatta is acting like this on purpose –the tinge in his voice is suspiciously smug– but he’s hypnotized by the hand that plays with the hem of his pants and sash, metallic fingers caressing the edges of it before slipping inside, and swallows again, mouth dry.

“I will,” he promises, breathless already, because not watching Zenyatta now would hurt, and despite how insistent his cock is, pressed against the front of his modesty panel, demanding his attention, he _knows_ he can ignore it. “Zenyatta, please…”

Zenyatta stretches, languidly, and the hand dips inside his pants for a second before he unties the sash from around his hips, letting it fall off the bed. “I could never refuse you, my sparrow.”

The pants are next, and Zenyatta makes a show to wriggle out of them, kicking his legs a bit, rotating his hips in ways that would usually have Genji on him without a second thought… but Genji sits back far enough that he can resist temptation, though the familiar sight of his lover without any garment on makes his heart flutter in his chest.

Zenyatta is beautiful, perfect with every dent and scratch on his body, and Genji loves each one of them viciously, has run multiple times his lips over every one, knows that body better than he knows his own.

This body is for Genji alone to see, spread on their bed, and for a moment Genji wishes there was a little more light in the room, so he can see him better.

His forehead array flickering in what counts as a smile, Zenyatta shifts on his side, and Genji watches the curve of his spine bend as he reaches to fetch the bottle of lubrication they keep on their bedside table. Usually Zenyatta self-lubricates enough for them to have no need for any extra, but they do tend to get messy, and the smell of cherry from this particular omnic brand is pleasant for both of them.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes out when Zenyatta turns to look at him, and Zenyatta titters, for a moment losing his smug composure.

“So are you, Genji, and I love you every day more.”

It sets Genji’s heart aflutter once again, and he feels, stronger than before, the need to reach out and kiss him, but when he makes to do so, Zenyatta seems to come back to his senses and lifts one hand to stop him.

“You must resist, my dear, and stay there. You promised, did you?”

Genji falters, still attempts to continue his halted movement before nodding, mourning the loss of the kiss he’d wished to give his love. Instead, he shuffles until he’s on his knees, sitting seiza. It is an uncomfortable pose, though the bed underneath him is softer than the floor, but between this and the distance he keeps from Zenyatta, he is fairly sure it’ll help him stay focused, and prevent him from giving in to his desire.

Zenyatta lays back down on the mattress, his back comfortably propped on a pillow, and spreads his thighs apart, giving Genji a good view of his body. He is comfortable showing himself to him, no embarrassment left after so many years they have travelled side by side, even before falling together like pieces of a puzzle, and Genji admires the way the little light coming from the one table lamp makes the metal of his inner thighs glisten.

“Remember, my sparrow –no touching allowed,” Zenyatta reminds him.

He moves his hands down his front slowly, fingers splayed to travel down his chest chassis, and lingers for a moment over his core, tracing its contours.

It is mostly for show, there’s no sensors on the plates covering his chest, though there are some right underneath, but he does not reach for them as his hands move lower, to the uncovered circuits of his midsection, and avoids even the small sensors there, his focus elsewhere.

He moves his hands to trace his modesty panel, and Genji tilts his head forwards, just a bit, to watch better.

Zenyatta rubs over the top of the metal plate, slowly, fingers flat, and Genji loses himself in the slow circles, pictures in his mind how it feels, as he’s done the same often, to tease Zenyatta into opening himself for him.

It feels to him that it takes forever for the panel to slide away, but in truth it only takes half a minute tops, Zenyatta’s stimulation on the hidden sensors enough of a prelude, and once it slides off, Genji is treated to a beautiful, enticing sight; the folds of Zenyatta’s valve greet him with their soft, teal glow, not too bright to blind, but enough so that he can see it well.

His cock is still trapped underneath a latch, and Zenyatta avoids his valve at first, traces the edges of the slot with feather-light touches, and sighs softly. It is the only sound in the room other than his fans spinning and Genji’s own breathing, which suddenly feels so loud in the silence.

The tip of his prosthetic cock peeks at the edges of the slot, attempts to push out, and Zenyatta presses his hand flat against it, rubs himself up into it with small motions of his hips, and Genji swallows again, licks his dry lips, and leans forwards again, barely, to watch.

He can see, translucent in the teal glow, some of Zenyatta’s slick peek from both the visible tip of his cock and from the folds of his valve.

This, more than anything, reassures him that Zenyatta finds just as much pleasure in doing this for him as Genji himself does by watching him. Zenyatta is excited, and it shows, and this is all Genji needs –if he only did it for Genji, it would not be _enough_.

With steady hands, Zenyatta pops the lube bottle open and pours some on his fingers, slicking them up. Some of it slides down his wrist, one droplet rolling down the side of his forearm. The heavy scent of cherry fills the air, and Genji’s mouth waters; he clenches his hands against his tights, takes a deep breath, and watches as Zenyatta rubs his index and middle fingers around the slot of his cock.

Genji watches as the prosthetic length pushes up a little, but Zenyatta pushes his hand down against it, keeps it still slotted inside, and spreads more lube over it, shivering softly, and making soft chirps as he rubs up against his open hand before moving it lower.

Slippery fingers trace the contours of his glowing nub, once, then again, and Zenyatta chirps louder, sighs in his synth as he pleasures himself.

Throughout this, his optical receptors never stray from Genji’s face, nor does he look away as his fingers finally find his valve, and rub against its folds, slowly, teasingly, from one side to the other without doing much else.

Genji wishes to reach forth and kiss those fingers, then part his lips and take them inside, lick them clean and swallow the cherry lube before devoting himself to slicking Zenyatta’s valve himself, dipping his tongue inside, and his head makes an aborted jolt before he remembers himself.

Ah, so dangerous –between the sight and his own mind, Genji needs to focus.

Zenyatta’s forehead array flickers as he notices the small movement, and he makes a soft, pleased sound with his synth.

“It is rare for me to do this,” he murmurs, and spreads his fingers apart, exposing a little bit more of his valve to Genji’s hungry stare. “You always do this for me, Genji. So gently, so helpfully… you take care of me so well,” he keeps making small, circling motions with his hand, and Genji stares, hypnotized, as the transparent cherry lube mixes with Zenyatta’s own internal slick. “Your fingers are bigger, too, they always feel so good inside me, or when you touch me…”

He makes another quiet chirp, chittering and sighing in pleasure, his own words apparently adding to it, and he arches his back, for a moment breaking contact with Genji to bare his neck to Genji’s sight.

“And… when you are not here, I touch myself, and think of you doing _this_ … to me.”

Someone somewhere makes a strangled noise, and Genji realises, with a start, that it is him. He clears his throat and feels a flush spread all over his cheeks.

“I…” he tries to speak, but Zenyatta continues on, his voice soft, so he shuts up so he can listen, mesmerized.

“You know how to make me moan, Genji, and I love how gently you work on me,” he grinds against his hand, fingers spreading the folds apart to show Genji a little peek of the soft, inviting depths inside, “how you tease me, refuse to come inside me until I beg you, until I’m… thrilling and asking you to… to stretch me and get me ready…” he makes a soft, keening noise, chirps, and Genji’s sight doubles for a moment as he shudders, heat and lust so strong he can barely breathe.

Then, Zenyatta pushes one finger inside his valve, circles its edges, caresses the sensors hidden just underneath them, and gasps, legs twitching as he parts them just a little more.

Genji groans, deep in his throat, his head full of cotton.

He can’t look away as Zenyatta denies himself and moves his hand back up, to the glowing nub above his valve, and rubs his thumb across it, shivering.

He’s teasing them both, like this.

So entranced with the sight, the soft golden glow takes Genji by surprise, and so do the other hands that appear around Zenyatta’s form, filling the room with warmth and light.

His heart hammers in his chest and he leans forwards, fingers digging into his thighs, as two of the golden transcendent hands reach Zenyatta’s thighs and caress down their length to wrap around his knees, easily pulling his legs apart, spreading him to Genji’s sight, so quickly he has barely any time to react to the new, much better sight.

Genji is speechless, and if Zenyatta had looked desirable before, when he was touching himself lazily on the bed, now it is even worse.

Stretched out like this, he looks ready to be taken apart, and Genji feels his cock react to the sight, straining against his modesty panel to the point it almost hurts.

“Oh, Zenyatta… you look so…” he gasps wetly, a soft moan leaving his lips.

With his hand still lazily touching his nub, Zenyatta allows two more arms to reach down, the bottle of lube grasped in one of them to coat the fingers of the other, and then two more hands join the fun, one rubbing at the wires on the back of Zenyatta’s neck and the other on those behind his back.

Zenyatta arches up, his synth cracking in a moan, and Genji echoes it with his own strangled groan.

“Oh…”

It is better than anything he’s envisioned before, and his eyes almost burn as he can’t even blink, not wishing to miss even a fraction of this show.

“Ah… it feels…” Zenyatta moans again, almost startled.

One of the golden hands rubs insistently at the folds of his valve, pushing them apart. Another hand dips inside, slowly, up to a knuckle before retreating, then back inside. His actual hand trembles against his nub as he juts his hips up into it, shaking.

“I never… I never tried this but… ah…” Zenyatta moans again, his synth glitching a bit, “oh, Genji, this feels so warm and… aaah…”

Genji brings one hand up to his mouth and bites down onto it, the sharp pain doing nothing to distract him from the ache of his cock and the burning need running through his veins.

Still, he voices his question, almost choking on his own words in his haste. “How… how do they feel…?”

“Warm… they’re so warm, warmer than your fingers, but not… not unpleasant… it makes my… sensors… flare up and _ah_ –”

Zenyatta pushes his legs further apart, the two golden hands keeping him spread openly so Genji can watch, and with his other hand, Zenyatta covers his own synth, barely muffling his soft cries.

Genji stifles a small moan at that –he loves when Zenyatta voices his pleasure, when he’s vocal, when he loses himself to Genji, but he also loves, with just as much intensity, when Zenyatta attempts to keep his composure, and fails.

He loves when Zenyatta burns and tries to appear unaffected, when Genji has to work to get those sounds out of him, when it’s a little harder to get him to break down and scream for him, because when he does, it is Genji’s own undoing, and…

Oh, he _loves_ it.

Finally –finally– Zenyatta’s cock slides out from its slot, slick lubrication covering its surface like a sheen, metal beads and curves almost translucent with it. It juts up, showing its underside to Genji’s stare, where tiny beads and sensors litter its curve. One of the golden hands teasing his folds moves up to tease it, rubbing up and down its shaft in tune with the other hand pushing inside him, fingers almost delicate in their movements, feather-like.

Gold fingers caress every tiny slot of its length, each metallic bead and sensor, and Zenyatta arches up into the touch and manages to get a wandering finger deeper into him at the same time.

The finger goes in easily, sliding with no problem due to that much lubrication, and Zenyatta pushes it inside fully, arching his back into the touch before he wriggles, legs as much spread apart as he can, to add a second finger.

“Aah… Genji…”

He stretches himself slowly still, almost sloppily with how much lubrication is gushing out, working on himself at a languid pace despite how good it feels, and Genji finds himself moaning in tandem every time the fingers disappear inside him, still biting down on his knuckle.

From where he is sitting, he has such a good view of everything –from Zenyatta’s valve to the trail of teal slick dripping down to the mattress.

He wishes to lick it clean, he wishes to move forwards, on all four, and press his lips against the hot furnace that is Zenyatta’s valve and part it with his tongue before sliding inside, slowly, tasting Zenyatta’s flavour and testing his give.

In his craze, he can almost feel it on his mouth, muscle memory of the many times he’s traced it and lapped at it, lavishing Zenyatta with as much attention and care as he deserves, and he has to lick his lips again, panting with his mouth parted.

He asked for this, he’s been blessed, but he had no idea how much it would test his resolve to follow his promise.

Zenyatta moans again, muffled and soft, before his forehead array flickers a little.

“What… what are you thinking about, Genji? Do you not wish to look…?”

Eyes glazed over, Genji shakes his head. “O-of course I want, Zenyatta, you are so gorgeous I just want to–” he makes another small, aborted jolt with his shoulders, not daring to move, one hand clawing at his thigh, the other moving away from his mouth as he speaks, hovering close.

“Your fingers, your tongue… they’d feel so heavenly working together with my hands, now… they’d reach deeper inside me, prepare me well to receive you…”

The unbearable heat Genji feels is almost too much, and his modesty panel slides open to allow him some respite, his cock pushing out into the air already thick and erect, precum smearing his thighs, which he still keeps flush together.

He’s trembling with how fiercely he’s holding himself together, flashes of desire making his cock twitch and burn.

He tries hard not to move, he wants to rut against the sheets and get some friction, anything to make the heat and lust a little better, but he dares not, not when he knows he won’t stop until he comes and then he won’t be able to fuck Zenyatta until he reboots.

This is the only thing that keeps him going, though it is hard.

His cock aches and throbs, twitches, wants him to touch it, but he will resist, he will…

“So ready and hard for me, Genji… so beautiful… but I’m not… not ready to take you yet, I…” Zenyatta’s synth falters as he pushed two fingers deeper inside him, and then his words are swallowed in a loud, needy moan. “ _Ah_ –”

The hands that were playing with his wires move away, leaving him trembling, and slide down to spread himself further to Genji’s eyes, and with more room to work with, Zenyatta frees another hand so he can penetrate himself better.

Two fingers from one golden hand and two from his hand, all moving together, stretching his insides, pushing against sensors hidden within, and Zenyatta shakes and trembles, body almost folded into himself, though it hides nothing from Genji.

His prosthetic cock is leaking, teal lubrication dripping down its shaft to join the rest of the mess below, and Genji pushes his tongue out, aching to find his way home between Zenyatta’s open thighs.

He regrets it now, his promise –he aches to reach out for Zenyatta, aches to give him a hand, and his cock is heavy and leaking against his thighs, in a position where he can’t do nothing about it, even with his hands clenched inches away from it, itching to relieve himself of some pressure, to grab it and rub a thumb against his slit, to thrust into his own hand just a bit, to mimic how it’d feel like to fuck Zenyatta now, bury himself deep inside him, but still –he resists.

Barely.

Panting, he watches as Zenyatta continues to thrust his fingers inside himself, the wet sounds echoing in his mind, a lewd prelude to what he hopes will follow, when Zenyatta gives him the word, lets him finally reach out…

“Genji…” Zenyatta moans, loud and with a soft breathless edge to his voice, his synth crackling, and Genji _trembles_.

His cock twitches, precum pooling in the small valley of his tights pressed together, and he whines deep in his throat.

“Zenyatta… please…”

“Oh, Genji, not… not yet… I’m… not ready… for you…” Zenyatta gasps, arches his back, all spread and squirming, and Genji is once again enraptured by the sight.

The fingers are fucking him deep now, as if Zenyatta has forgotten that he’s supposed to get ready for him, and it’s so _unfair_ , and Genji feels heady and too compressed, his body burning and filled with desire.

He’ll make Zenyatta scream, he vows to himself –he’ll make sure Zenyatta knows that Genji’s own fingers are better than the transcendent ones are, he’ll make sure Zenyatta forgets everything except him, and that… that…

Zenyatta’s thumb traces around his tiny nub, flicking it, rubbing it, caressing its underside, and gasps as more slick drips down his valve. Genji watches as it clenches and unclenches around the fingers fucking him deep, watches as Zenyatta’s legs twitch, as his ankles make his feet curl up a little, his thighs arching to his front, baring himself more.

He watches as the transcendent arms wrapped around his knees keep him spread open, it would be so easy for Genji to slot himself there, take his rightful place and fuck Zenyatta until he comes, until they both come, until…

“Genji…”

Zenyatta’s sharp tone startles Genji out of his daydream, and he blinks, gasps and trembles, hunching forwards, and realises that one of his hands is neatly rubbing on top of his cock, the sensation sending flickers of pleasure through his hazed brain.

Time ticks by, and Genji blinks, slowly, as he realises he’s broken his promise to Zenyatta, who is staring at him, forehead array blinking unsteadily, fingers still knuckle-deep inside him.

A beat, then another, and then–

Genji grunts and surges forwards, breaking his seiza pose –if he’s already failed, if he was already touching himself, then it doesn’t matter anymore, and his cock is aching and burning, and so is his desire for Zenyatta.

He falls on top of his lover, heavy, and Zenyatta makes a soft, surprised yelp before the transcendent arms vanish into thin air, plunging the room back into its soft, velvety darkness.

No matter –Genji’s hand follows the contours of Zenyatta’s body like he was made for it, knows it down to every last sensor and bolt and curve.

He finds the tiny sensors on the exposed circuitry of his stomach and caresses them, sloppily and with fumbling hands, then moves lower, slots himself so well in Zenyatta’s already spread legs, his other hand shaky as it moves in to push Zenyatta’s hand out of himself, bringing his wet, slick fingers to his mouth.

He sucks on them hungrily, hurriedly, barely remembers to breathe as he bites onto the slippery metal, aligns himself with his other hand and then slides home inside Zenyatta with a smooth, wet thrust.

Zenyatta emits a startled gasp, his synth chirping and chittering, and Genji chokes on the feeling of his hot valve clenched down around his cock.

For a moment, he twitches and grinds forwards, bottoms out, and is afraid he’s coming, it’s too soon, he’s been wound up and left on edge for so long, he trembles and shakes and feels precum mix with Zenyatta’s slick…

And then he manages to hold out, teeth clenched down so hard on Zenyatta’s fingers he’s afraid he’ll dent them.

“Genji…” Zenyatta has no right to sound so broken, so wanton, when he’s so hot around his dick, when he spread himself so well for him, teasing him until Genji had to break, but Genji can never keep anything from his love.

He thrusts into Zenyatta, pushing him down against the mattress and sucking on his fingers, while with his hand he blindly searches for Zenyatta’s other hand, intertwining their fingers together and holding onto them as he fucks into him.

Genji wishes to take this slowly, but every time he thrusts inside he can feel the coils of his pleasure, already teased to their limits, tighten inside him.

He won’t last long, but he can feel Zenyatta arch into him, his synth making delicious, broken sounds, his legs wrapped around Genji’s ass, and knows that for all he’s been teasing, for all he’s been doing it for show, Zenyatta is as close as he is, just as appeased by having Genji watch him as Genji was.

With soft, throaty groans, Genji continues to fuck into Zenyatta, desperate, and his other hand, that had been curled around Zenyatta’s sides, comes to wrap around his leaking cock.

Zenyatta seizes up, urgent, calls Genji’s name as his synth cracks down, and his forehead array, so close to Genji’s face, flickers and sputters in bright teal lights before it grows whiter and whiter.

He’s close – _Zenyatta_ is close– and they’re both leaning into each other, moving in tandem, their hands intertwined, and Genji moans around Zenyatta’s fingers, drools dripping down his chin, and his eyes flutter close as he gets lost in the feeling.

So tight around his cock, so hot, so perfect and wet, the sound of their coupling mixed with Zenyatta’s delicious moans and his own loud sounds, and he just–

Genji thrusts one last time, hard, deep into Zenyatta, and climaxes.

The force of his orgasm steals his breath from him and he gasps and pants and fucks Zenyatta through it, unable to do more than muffle his moans around his fingers, hand clenching down hard on Zenyatta’s one.

It feels so good, and Genji slumps down on top of Zenyatta , twitching and riding his climax and the aftershocks, and it takes him a few seconds to calm down and breath slowly, and by then, he realises that Zenyatta is still whining and writhing under him, unsatisfied and grinding up into him.

He should be embarrassed, but the sight steals what’s left of his breath, making him shudder, ripples of a second, smaller orgasm taking all his thoughts away.

“Z-Zenyatta, I…” embarrassed, Genji chuckles, sheepish, and moves to kiss Zenyatta’s face plate.

“You broke… your promise, Genji.” Zenyatta stops him, his hand steady as it frames Genji’s face, his palm cool against Genji’s lips. Denying him his kiss. “And… look at you…”

Genji shifts, attempts to pull out, wants to get Zenyatta to come on his fingers, wants to watch him, but Zenyatta’s legs are heavy and steely behind his ass, and keep him buried within him. Oversensitive, Genji cannot retreat, his cock spent but still thick and hard inside Zenyatta’s valve, and every time he moves an inch, the shocks travel up his back, making him shiver.

“Z-Zen…”

“You need to know what happens… when you break your promise…” Zenyatta moans, grinds harder against him, and then the halo of the Iris shines around them once again.

The hand that was wrapped around Zenyatta’s cock is pushed away by one golden hand that takes its place, and then Genji finds his wrists seized and dragged behind his back, making him almost fall off of Zenyatta, but the golden arms steady him, keep him there, and then they guide him to the side, and Genji can’t do anything else as Zenyatta rolls them over.

They’re still connected, Genji still buried deep in him, and it’s almost too much, but in a delicious way, pleasure heightened with the gentle warmth of the Iris, so that nothing hurts, and it’s just so…

“Such… such pity you never… never did this… before…” Genji allows Zenyatta’s transcendent arms to rearrange him and pin him down, feels a jolt of lust coil within his belly again, the restraints only making his cock twitch inside Zenyatta.

The soft, genuine laughter pooling out of Zenyatta’s synth surprises him, just as much as the hand caressing his cheek, before one finger pushes into his mouth, silencing him.

“Oh, my dear. You were so easily teased, it took so little, and ah… you feel so _good_ inside me…” he starts to grind down, taking Genji deeper like this, the golden hand rubbing his cock as he impales himself on Genji’s length, and Genji’s eyes roll back.

Zenyatta is still so tight around him, clenching hard around his cock, dragging more moans out of his lips, muffled by that one finger that’s pressed against his tongue until he sucks on it, and Zenyatta is so wet and hot inside, and Genji is still so sensitive, and _oh_ –

“Genji…”

Genji arches up as golden hands caress down his chest, rub the sensors on his sides, his shoulders, his neck, stimulate every inch of his body until he’s putty, until he’s thrusting upwards into that welcoming tight heat, feels hands cup his ass, and feels Zenyatta clench down on his cock, and ride him, slowly, viciously slowly, and he could lose his mind like this, lose days and he’d allow Zenyatta to, could never make him stop, he just wants him to continue, and–

“Don’t… don’t think I’d let you come so… easily… oh…” Zenyatta slows down again, valve twitching, dragging him in deeper, and Genji seizes up but goes nowhere, the hands teasing him with pleasure, one finger rubbing against his own entrance, yet refusing to breech him, and he gasps, pushes into it, but can’t move… can’t… “You need to make it up to me now…”

“Zen… Zenyatta please…” he moans around his finger.

But in his pleasure, Zenyatta does not allow him mercy, and Genji watches, transfixed, as Zenyatta rides him to his own climax, slow yet relentless, until he comes with a loud gasp and Genji’s name uttered like a prayer from his synth.

He comes beautifully, streaks of teal lubrication leaving his cock and splattering all over Genji’s chest, some of them even reaching his neck and chin, and they look perfect against the creamy white of his chest plates, enough that he wants to rub his fingers and spread it all over, but can’t –Zenyatta is still keeping him pinned, restrained, and shows no sign to let him go.

“Zen…” he moans when Zenyatta keeps fucking himself down onto him, and it’s like torture, but the kind he could never deprive himself of.

Zenyatta titters, shaken and trembling as he pushes the finger deeper in Genji’s mouth, stifling what else he was about to say.

“More, Genji,” he tells him, orders him, and Genji cannot deny him anything, can’t even move as Zenyatta keeps him there and swallows him deeper.

Zenyatta edges him on, golden hands still rubbing teasingly against his ass and his entrance, and Genji lets himself go, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, breaking a promise is worth this.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> it couldn't be made clear in context, but Zenyatta totally cheated -it's not the first time he uses those hands for personal... exploration. and not the soul-searching kind.


End file.
